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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29965032">toffee tarts</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/irreputablyyours/pseuds/irreputablyyours'>irreputablyyours</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Music RPF, Oasis (Band)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, M/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-16 02:27:06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>312</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29965032</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/irreputablyyours/pseuds/irreputablyyours</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>You can never get enough.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Liam Gallagher/Noel Gallagher</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>18</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>toffee tarts</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>me: *has 7 longfic ideas*<br/>me: *writes completely unrelated drabble at 2AM*<br/>me: *asks for prompts for more drabbles*<br/>me: why can i never finish my longfic<br/>me: goddamnit</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>He’s always liked sugar, Liam. Mixes soda with his beer and drinks it smiling, as though his teeth could rot off and he wouldn’t care. It drives you nuts, and you tell him, <em>Liam, put the fucking hot cocoa away, don’t suck the icing power off your fingers, stop gagging on that lollipop. </em>He never listens.  </p>
<p>If you’re in public, he’ll lean close and drag his fingers on the inseam of your jeans, say, “Why, y’wanna taste?” and you’ll feel hot all over and try not to show it. It’ll get a laugh from Bonehead or Whitey, though, because they think it’s a joke. Because they don’t know what happens when the two of you are alone.</p>
<p>/</p>
<p>Toffee sticks on your collarbone from how much he’s touched you there, pulling you up to meet him. He tastes like sugar and regret, digging his sticky fingers into your hip, hard enough to bruise. “Noel,” Liam says, breathlessly, like you’re a drug, like you’re a sugar high. Worse.</p>
<p>“Fucking idiot,” you tell him, thinking of how he’d dug his teeth into the soft sugary core of a toffee tart not half a minute ago.</p>
<p>He glances up at you, licking his lips and giving you pleading eyes, and unspoken question. <em>Why? </em></p>
<p>“All that sugar’s going to kill you,” you says. He shrugs. He knows what you mean, what you’re actually talking about, can read you better than any book.</p>
<p>So he pulls you closer and runs his thumb along your throat. He tastes like sugar and regret. You run your tongue along the grooves of his teeth, tasting the rotting sweetness there, the syrup dissolving on your tongue. The sugar’ll burn through your enamel and give you cavities like nothing else, but you can never get enough.</p>
<p>Your brother tilts his head back and moans, pulling you closer, and you know he can’t, either.</p>
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